From Darkness Won - Jill Williamson [108]
Had Kurtz meant to give him wine? Achan had wine with dinner most nights, so it wouldn’t matter to drink some now. He took a sip. Robust sweetness filled his mouth. He swished his tongue around, tasting the flavor as long as it would linger. Blazes, that was good. Much better than what Lord Eli had served in Mirrorstone.
Yet when the taste faded, the wine left his mouth dryer than before. So he took a longer drink and wished he had some food. The wine seemed to point out just how hungry he was. He should go back to his tent and eat.
Instead he took another drink.
The waves lapped against the shore, simmering like butter in a skillet. He dug the heels of his boots into the sand, extending his legs and making two deep trenches. He took another drink then stood and walked onto the smooth, wet sand. The tide slid in again, and he let it wash over his boots. As the water drew away, it pulled the sand from under his heels. He stopped and watched it erode, amazed at the power water had over dirt.
Arman had that kind of power over men. The power to give and take away. Dying for any cause of Arman’s would be worth it. Achan recalled the intense pleasure the pull of Shamayim had brought. He would not be unhappy to return to that place. That much he knew.
Yet it seemed Arman wanted him here for now. So here, in Er’Rets, Achan must stay.
Now Sparrow, she had that same water-over-sand pull on Achan. He did not know how or when it had happened, but she affected him. Too much. The things she said. How she said them. The way she looked at him. The way she smelled. He tried to stop thinking about her, but that decision only made her ever more present in his mind. Sparrow and her stubborn ways. Even without her memory.
He took a long swallow.
He’d had enough of this weakness, this power Sparrow had over him. Was he man or boy? He was a man—a prince. Soon to be king. He needed to forget about Vrell Sparrow. There were plenty of women who would covet his attention. And now he was free to choose any of them. He could have his pick of the most beautiful women in the world.
His stomach clenched at that idea, for that was why Sparrow had claimed to be afraid to love him—back when she’d had her memory. That as king he would be surrounded by women seeking his attentions. He laughed to himself, alone on the beach but for his two Kingsguard shadows.
“Yes, Sparrow, I can hardly keep the women away.”
He snorted, then flubbed out a long breath through his lips. The idea of throngs of women trying to turn his head. He laughed, then sobered when he caught sight of his guardsmen standing where the grassy prairie met the sand.
Achan suddenly wanted to see Sparrow’s thoughts. Plant memories, perhaps? Make her remember him. The desire only made him take another drink.
The tide swept out, and Achan stumbled as the sand melted under his heels. He trudged up the hill. Dry sand stuck to his boots. He stomped to shake it free.
A burst of laughter pulled his attention back to the orange glow of the bonfire. Shadows of dancers circled over the tops of the tents. The fiddle hummed, voices chorused, and the clapping and laughter tugged at his heart.
He wanted to laugh too. So he did. Long and hard, like a madman. His guards followed a few paces behind. Achan glanced back every few steps, wondering what they thought of the laughing prince. The question made him snicker.
Well, why couldn’t the Crown Prince have fun? Why must he always be alone in his tent or alone on the beach or alone with his advisors or shadows or servants?
“Bah.” He smiled at the sound of his voice imitating Kurtz’s favorite word. He said it again, louder this time, “Bah!” and laughed. His smile lingered. Head tingling, he set off for the reveling.
He stopped between two tents at the edge of the clearing. Over three dozen couples danced around the bonfire now. And the women were not all Berlanders. There